The Long Path
by RSwordsman
Summary: Ashte Valcrom is a bright kid from Corellia no longer satisfied with playing lightsabers in his garden. He is driven to become a Jedi like his sister Jaxa, whom he idolizes. However, despite being recognized as very strong in the Force, he missed the Order's cutoff age for selection. The Force still beckons him, and now he must find another way to answer it.


Author's Note: This is my first serious attempt at a SW fanfic, which takes place in an undetermined Old Republic time frame. I apologize for its brevity but I hope to test the waters and see what people think of it. Honest, constructive reviews are hugely appreciated. :)

His shadowy form swelled in the chest, sucking in his noxious, alien air. A red blade sprang from the lightsaber hilt in his scarred right hand. It crackled and leaped about, formed through an intentionally raw crystal for its brutal effect on flesh. The Sith lord sensed his time was short and turned to the entrance of his meditation chamber.

The figure at the threshold removed his cloak to reveal the horned, tattooed face of a famed Jedi Guardian. "Darth Balekai," the Jedi boomed, "Stop this! What do you hope to achieve? The Dark Side has taken you for its own!"

The Sith spoke simply. "I am through with words."

He braced himself and channeled his emotions, causing the Jedi to draw his own lightsaber. The blade cast a silvery blue light over the glowing holocrons and twisted shapes around. "You can still turn away from it."

Balekai had no such intention. He raised his hand and slowly closed it into a tight fist. A Force choke would be too quick for this hound that had tracked him so tirelessly. The Jedi lapdog's entire body would be crushed by Balekai's rage. The Force rushed in a torrent to its target.

The Jedi's limbs contorted and he cried out, "Ow ow ow Ashte stop, that hurts!"

Ashte Valcrom dropped the act of "Darth Balekai" in an instant. His mother would more closely resemble a dark lord if she found out he had hurt Zakaid while playing Jedi-battle in the garden. What's more, that Ashte actually did show no small measure of Force sensitivity. And that his Sith "crush" move _actually worked. _His eyes grew wide. "Please don't tell. I didn't mean it!"

His brother sat on the ground and clutched his elbow, giving Ashte a dirty look. "Schutta crap," he spat, "You're just mad that you didn't get picked to be a Jedi like Jaxa and you're taking it out on me."

The assertion stung. Jaxa Valcrom was their big sister. Ashte's parents had told him of how their first-born daughter was chosen to serve, while his own Force connection bloomed a year or so too late for the Order to accept him. Also too late were all attempts to erase the image he fostered of her: a wise hero larger than life, mastering the Force and spreading peace among the stars. He could not let it go. "I don't care about Jaxa!" Ashte lied, yelling with the hope that it concealed the lump in his throat, "It was an accident. I'm sorry."

Zakaid swung his toy saber in a huge arc as he stormed off, shouting "Leave me alone!"

Zak wasn't going to rat him out. The remark he dropped about his brother's missing the cutoff age was punishment enough. Now Ashte was a skinny thirteen year old who hurt his brother, gazing at a toy lightsaber in his hand. Its housing was so feeble as to creak when he squeezed it, and the spotty, room-temperature blade was dim enough to see through. What he wouldn't do to grip a real one, see the glint of its metal, and hear the waxing and waning hum that emanated as much sober power as its radiance. It could have been him staring down the galaxy's gravest threats and bringing them to justice. He ran away to his room before Zakaid could come back and see the tears running down his face.

_It's all the blasted Order's fault!_ Ashte dove onto his bed and pounded his pillow. Jedi trainees never had to be below a certain age before. Only recently did the rules change. But his whole family was full of Knights! This is what he was meant to do; they had to make an exception. However, that was not the way of the Jedi. Even those who did not idolize them had their opinions, and "strict" was always among the terms expressed. They lived and died by the Code and their internal policies, and nothing more.

Ashte rolled onto his back, his cheeks still red and streaked from before. "There is no emotion; there is peace," he whispered to himself. It was the first line of the Jedi Code, commanding Knights to master their base impulses. Only with a quiet mind can one render proper judgment. Evidently he had thrown that one out the airlock. "There is no ignorance; there is knowledge," he continued. Truth be told, Ashte hadn't the slightest idea why the Jedi suddenly restricted their entry requirements. But he had soaked up all there was to know about Jedi for most of his life! He suffered less from ignorance than a great many people he had met. Quite ironic was the Order's ignorance of his abilities which kept him from refining and expressing his gift. Ashte rubbed his scalp before the coming headache. Here he was attempting to better understand the Code and only found fault. "There is no passion; there is serenity." He racked his brain trying to find meaning behind this one. It sounded sort of like the first line, except still made no sense. "No passion" meant not caring about anything. The only people who felt that way were Sith, and they were evil. "There is no chaos; there is harmony." Ashte took a long pause after speaking this line. It was hard for him to fathom anyone knowing themselves so well that all parts worked together.

A Jedi would look at him and hang his head. Ashte had been waiting his entire life to follow in Jaxa's footsteps, and yet he was a heap of emotion, ignorance, passion, and chaos shaped somewhat like a kid. A groan escaped him when the weight of this self-assessment bore down on his chest: he was a loser. Such misgivings weren't totally new to him. But being so young, every successful adult he spoke to said the same things about his future: "Don't worry, everything will sort itself out. You've got a lot of growing to do." Well, he had grown enough for the stupid Jedi to pass on him instead of giving him the training to get himself into shape. He did find some measure of calm in reciting the Code though, and he had not finished. "There is no death; there is the Force."

He breathed deeply. "There is no death," he repeated. He may not have been the model Knight, but he had the Force. And thanks to it, he might live until the day where he could see his dream of joining the Order. He wasn't sure if that's exactly what it meant, but it was good enough for now.


End file.
